Through the Years
by BookCaseGirl
Summary: Chuck/Blair five-song shuffle one-shot. Different little drabbles that capture basically every aspect of their relationship over the years.


**A/N: **Thought I would give it a shottt...Hope everyone likes!!

Do I even have to say this anymore? Well, thanks Michelle!!

P.S.: Gossip Girl isn't mine. :(

_Through the Years..._

_Breakaway – Kelly Clarkson_

_When the rain would fall down_

_I'd just stare out my window_

_Dreaming of a could-be_

_And if I'd end up happy_

_I would pray_

_-------------------------------_

_When I tried to speak out_

_Felt like no one could hear me_

_Wanted to belong here_

_But something felt so wrong here_

------------------------------

Blair watched with fascinated eyes as the rain tittered and tattered on her window pane. Each drop sparkled and had millions of facets to its unique personality.

Or so her therapist was telling her right then.

After that damned relapse, she'd been dragged into this office. She'd been under the impression that her father was taking her for some nice 'father-daughter-bonding' time, therefore they would be hitting Bendel's, Saks, and Bergdorf's. It was tradition.

This was not.

It was uncomfortable, prying, and meddlesome. She didn't need a complete stranger telling her what was wrong and trying to fix it when she was perfectly capable of knowing and fixing herself. She was Blair Waldorf, Blair _Waldorf._ That name exuded importance and intelligence, as well as hierarchy and superiority.

She'd tried talking to the only-hears-her-own-voice-and-thoughts 'therapist' during their first session, nearly three months ago, but had been shut up. It was like she was an orphan who didn't deserve her own opinion, much less the gruel that was often served.

All that Blair had wanted was that perfect life. The life Serena had; Nate had it...Hell, even Chuck had it. _Everyone_ but her had something, had a quality that made them special and uniquely themselves.

So what if she had thought purging was hers?

"Lisa, if I may..." Blair timidly interjected, holding up her hand before the woman got too far into her so-called 'motivational' speech.

The response she received was a blankly surprised stare before Lisa simply continued. Her voice prattled on and on and Blair heaved a sigh. This wasn't really where she belonged...Purging wasn't who she was, it wasn't what she would become. It was most definitely _not_ her aspiration in life.

She would fix this. Because it was wrong. And it was _not Blair Waldorf._

_Unsung Psalm – Tracy Chapman_

_I feel the heat_

_And I know it's the passion_

_The love I can't just survive_

_---------------------_

_Do you live by the book?_

_Play by the rules?_

_---------------------_

_Do you live for the future...the present...the past?_

"Chuck," he heard her whisper quietly. It was so quiet, in fact, that he was sure it wasn't real. But as he looked at her expectant expression, he knew it was real. He knew that the events that had transpired only moments – hours – ago were true and honest, the only in his life.

"Blair," he responded, tucking a wild and rebellious lock of hair behind her ear.

"Sometimes I wonder..." she trailed off, letting out a sigh of tremendous exhaustion and contentedness. "Sometimes I find myself thinking that this is too good to be true...That it can't be real. I can't be in love with Chuck Bass, and he can't love me. It's just not possible.." she said, her voice breakly gently on the parts that killed her the most.

"I do love you, Blair. Why else are we doing what we are tomorrow, hmm?" he said, staring up at the ceiling now. He couldn't stand to look at her when she was about to cry; it shook him to his core and just about killed him sometimes. Sure it was cheesy, but it was the truth.

"What if we don't work, Chuck? God knows that we've fucked up in the past; this is real, lawbinding, and literal. We can't afford to screw it up," Blair said, grabbing his head forcefully and yanking it so that his eyes met hers.

"We won't," he said simply with a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders. They'd just had three hours of some of the most mind-blowing sex he'd ever experienced, and now she wanted to get all serious on him? She couldn't just save it for tomorrow.

"But...What _if_?" Blair whispered, her eyes wandering to look down at the bedspread.

"Look at us," he began. "We've managed to stick to each other's sides even through every moment that one of us," he stopped when one of her trademark glares was shot at him, "_okay,_ mainly me, screwed up. Blair, if we could last then, we can last now, and we can last tomorrow...And the next day and the next," Chuck finished, trailing a few demure kisses up her arm to her elbow.

"It's _unconventional_," Blair argued. "We're far too much alike." Her eyes were welling up now, and Chuck's rough hands squeezed her face as he forced her to look at him.

"Get with the program, Waldorf. _We're_ unconventional; _we're_ the same, but that's what makes us so much better than anyone else. _We've_ got the best of both worlds, the ripest fruit of both trees," he said, stroking her cheek.

A stray tear tumbled down her cheek and he kissed it away before moving to her lips and settling his hands on her hips.

_The Story – Brandi Carlile_

_All of these lines across my face_

_Tell you the story of who I am_

_So many stories of where I've been_

_And how I got to where I am_

_But these stories don't mean anything_

_When you've got no one to tell them to_

_-----------------------------_

_It's true _

_I was made for you_

"Claire," Blair chastised her eldest daughter, who sat on the elegant bed before her, hair done up in a beautifully sophisticated bun.

"Mother, please? You promised."

"I never recall-" Blair started.

"Fine, _Daddy_ promised. Anyway, I think I'm old enough. Ten years old is plenty, right Daddy?" Clair squeaked, turning to Chuck now.

He gave his wife an apologetic smile that came out more as a pained grimace at what would come later...in their bedroom.

"Yes..." he ventured uncertainly. "Yes, I think it's plenty old." He moved across to the other side of the bed, wrapping his arms around Blair's waist and putting his mouth by her ear.

"We can PG-ify, can't we? I _did_ promise...I'm a goddamn sucker for those brown doe eyes and that headband, Blair."

She sighed as he discreetly licked the very inside of her ear. Oh they were bad, doing this in front of their daughter. But Chuck always had been good at deceiving people.

"Believe me," she said melodramatically, "I know." Pulling away from him and sitting Indian-style, she faced her daughter.

"Really, Mom?! You're going to tell me...now? In front of..._Dad_?" The end of Claire's sentence came out in a conspicuous whisper, hiding her mouth behind her hand in an effort to conceal her words.

"I can hear you, daughter of mine..." Chuck said, tickling her. Her laughs filled the room and were soon joined by four others as her parents and sisters joined in.

The story would be forgotten for tonight, as it always managed to be. And so it would stay until their daughter was at _least_ one hundred and forty six.

_This is How a Heart Breaks – Rob Thomas_

_Life is like a mean machine_

_It made a mess out of me_

_It left me caught between_

_Like an angry dream_

_----------------------_

_I was stranded, I was stranded_

_And I'm standing but I'm starting to shake_

_And I don't know how much more I can take_

As they lay on the floor, all Blair could think of was the hurt, pain, and agony that this had brought her last time. Even bad history repeated itself, so maybe that was what this was. Just something that was destined to utterly ruin them both.

"What?" Chuck asked, worry clouding over his eyes as he stared back at her.

"Do you ever think that we made a big mistake all those years ago?" she asked timidly, deciding this would be better to talk about sitting up rather than laying down, naked, in his warm and muscle-filled arms.

"...No," he finally stated, after a few moments of thought. "Why? Do you?" Chuck's voice was frantic now, scared; it was like the terrified cries of a little boy, the sobering whimpers of a beaten dog. His eyes were searching and confused.

"I don't know, Chuck. I always wanted kids...Just not then, at _that_ time. What we did was so permanent. I mean, what if we don't last forever? What if something happens and I have to re-marry? Then I won't be able to have children with _that poor man_ either. Please tell me you understand where I'm coming from," Blair murmured when she noticed that he was beginning to pace.

"I do, _Waldorf,_" he seethed, spitting her maiden name back in her face. All she could do was cringe in defeat and skulk away from him in the tiniest, most minuscule way.

"This is why, Chuck. I can feel it; we're like this one day, in bed and happy. There's a euphoric glow around everything and we're great. But then the next, we fight. Bitter words fly every which way, and it hurts. I can feel something inside of me _break_ with each _word,_" Blair choked on her words, phlegm-y tears clogging her throat.

"I..." he was at a loss for words. He wouldn't lose her; not over some stupid argument about time passed.

She gestured around her before moving on. "We are not seventeen anymore, Chuck. We aren't twenty, we aren't thirty...We're aging with every passing day. I want to have children. I never thought I would regret anything that I ever did or experienced with you," and Chuck couldn't keep the smirk from donning his thin lips, "but I do...I think it's over. This flame, it lasted too long anyway."

And so she walked out of the house. The million dollar house that had been nit-picked at and also been the subject of many meal-talks until it was absolutely tailor-fitted to each and every detail she specified. The home that he had built for her, hoping it would make up for everything. Chuck needed to learn; material objects never bought psychological feelings and thoughts.

He would go after her. Just not tonight; she needed space, and he knew this. He knew this not only because he was Chuck Bass, but also because he knew her better than he knew anyone, even himself.

_Sour Cherry – The Kills_

_Make my blood thump seven, eight, nine_

_Make me heart beat double time_

_Now, I'm the only sour cherry on your fruit stand, right?_

_Now, I'm the only sour cherry on your fruit stand_

_------------------------------_

_Go home, it's over_

_Go go home, it's over_

He moaned into the nape of her neck and pressed sloppy, lust-filled, and wet kisses onto her bare shoulder and the top of her forearm. As her hands traveled down to grasp his thighs and pinch, he bit at the very tip where her jawline began; this caused a low growl to escape from deep within her.

Only Chuck Bass could evoke this sort of animalistic quality from Blair Waldorf.

"Chuckkk..." she whispered in a fit of ecstasy. His hand rubbed up and down her thigh at the most slow and excruciating pace possible. The torture he must have been putting her through...It made him nearly smirk with satisfaction. The more frustration, the more pent-up sexual creativity that was released.

Oh yes, he knew just how to work her.

***

"Time to gooo..." Blair whispered on the hollow right behind his ear. "Nate'll be here soon. Can't let him find _you_, can we?" she said, a sex-kitten pitch of voice replacing her normal Upper East Side superiority-complex tone.

"I say we let him find us. As with most days, he's probably high as a kite and horny as hell. I bet he'd even join in," Chuck said, a whispering taunt in his voice. He flipped around to look at her. "But I know you'd actually like that, Waldorf." His finger, which had been resting on her stomach, unmoving, twitched downwards before he took it away. He walked towards the chair where his clothes lay neatly folded. God bless heavy blankets and a clueless Dorota.

He crawled back into bed for a good-bye kiss, or maybe a goodbye something _else_, but was greeted by the back of Blair's head rather than the front. He heard a disinterested sniff.

"C'mon, babe..." he coaxed.

And she came on. She came on so hard that he still had the bruise on his nose five weeks later.

He never went back to her residence again; their trysts were held in 1812 from that day forward.

**A/N:** This was fun for me to do. It almost...cleansed the pallet? It was long, though, and time-consuming. Not that I'm complaining ;). Sooo...yeah, review.


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